Forlorn Desires Studio
Its about two A.M. I'm down to my last Newport, god I love cigarettes.
My computer is pushing the limits of its virtual memory, but the
images just won't wait. You know what I mean? Sisters of Mercy are
playing in the background and the only light is from the computer
screen and the igniter to the clove incense thats filling the room.
Poe and Lovecraft be damned, the written word is dead, only the images
envoke feeling. Do you know what I mean?
My hands guide the image from Photoshop to
Image Pro and a dozen other enhancements. Weaving layers and casting
small enchantments. Not pure photography? Is not using a Grimoire to
cast a spell pure magic? Who cares? The images are all that matter.
What matters is that Bauhaus is screaming in my ears that Bela
Lugosi's dead and I'm creating colors I ain't seen before. Do you know
what I mean?
NEWS and Things to Come! Photographer Program
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